From the Start to the Finish
by Zurgboy2
Summary: Ancient Rules were always broken. Gods were always overly dramatic. Deaths were always imminent. They thought they could control the future, lives and prophecies. How wrong they were. For love conquers everything.


There they were.

In an almost circular formation.

Twelve huge figures standing in the blood stained snow. The remnants of a war scattered all around them. Helmets. Guns. Gas masks. Strewn here and there. The Russian wind bellowed, carrying some of the lighter pieces to some unseen place.

The figures were all dressed up. So out of place with their rich clothing and well pressed suits. But they weren't bothered.

Three of the twelve had their right hands held out, one on top of the other. They stayed like this for a while as the others stared at them. Some even snickered as two of the three were fighting for who got to the top.

But none stirred when thunder struck.

The passing of a few moments.

Then they disappeared. Some with flashes. Others fading into the darkness.

A whisper the only evidence they were there.

"_The course of history shall forever be changed." _

Then a final flash before the land was as cold and barren as it ever was.

_A few years before_

In the middle of a park, there was a bench. On that bench was a man dressed in all black, as if he was going to a funeral. He was alone, except for a small dog by his side, as he surveyed the DC skyline.

The dog was normal to the people strolling by, but to the man, the dog had three heads. Its eyes glowed red as the man patted each of the heads.

"It's okay, Cerberus," The man said, "You'll be ten feet tall in no time."

The dog purred as it rubbed its heads against the man's legs. He stroked its ears, smiling a little. This went on for a few minutes. The man looked up after some time, and noticed that someone was staring at him and the dog.

"Yes?" The man asked, "Is there something you wish to speak with me about? Or do you just stand and stare at random strangers?"

"Nothing that would concern you, Lord Hades." The woman said, shocking the man, "And I only stare at men who have three-headed dogs for pets."

"And please tell me," Hades, a god not easily outfoxed, replied, "How many men have you seen with three-headed dogs as pets?"

"The same number of men as there are three-headed dogs," She replied back.

"Then I'm afraid to say that there is only one such dog," Hades replied, liking the mortal.

"Then I guess the number of men with three-headed dogs is zero," The lady smirked, "Seeing as you're a god."

Hades looked at the lady with a small smile before chuckling, his eye still staring into hers. He invited her over to his seat. She walked over, taking a seat a few inches from the immortal. Cerberus jumped onto her lap.

"I just adore these little monsters," She said as she scratched Cerberus behind the ears, "They're just normal things, clumped together. Normal, yet unique at the same time."

"I know what you mean, Miss-"

"Di Angelo, Lord," She completed, "The little angel of the diplomat."

The pair sat there, talking till late at night. They decided to stay in touch and meet up tomorrow, unaware that history was being altered as they spoke.

_A half-century later…_

A man in a plain white suit walked through the streets of Los Angeles, his outfit blending with the regular crowd. His shades reflected the sun light as he got into the awaiting limousine. Ignoring the various women throwing themselves at him, he went off to his hotel.

"Good morning, Mr. Smith," The doorman of the Empress Hotel exclaimed as he opened Mr. Smith's door, "I hope you found whatever it is you were looking for downtown."

The man looked at the doorman for a few moments, before waltzing into the hotel. He walked in, taking the drink from a waiter's tray, and headed towards the elevator.

"Hold the door!" A feminine voice yelled as the elevator doors started closing in. Mr. Smith, a man more accustomed to not lifting a finger for others, shot his hand out and pressed the door back. A beautiful woman, dressed to the nines and in high heels.

Mr. Smith couldn't help notice her bushed up hairstyle. The way her eyes shone with glitter. Her lips, covered in bright red lipstick, which actually looked good on her. All in all, Mr. Smith liked what he saw.

"Thank you so much," The lady exclaimed as the doors closed behind her, "You wouldn't believe how much work I have left to do at home. Memorize lines. Rehearse plays. P-"

"Not a problem," Mr. Smith said with a bright smile. He eyed her up and down, "I could help you prepare for whatever it is you're preparing for. I'm not that busy today."

"Are you sure?" The lady asked, her eyes wide, "Because that'd be so amazing, if you could."

"I'm positive."

"Thank you!" The lady exclaimed, "Thank you! Thank you so much, Mr…"

"Mr. Smith," He offered his hand.

" ," The lady replied as she shook his hand, "But you can call me, Kate."

"A beautiful name, for a beautiful lady," Mr. Smith said, as the elevator went straight up to the penthouse suite.

"Would you min-"

"Don't worry, Kate," He said, "I'll have the concierge bring up your stuff to my Suite."

"You will?" Kate said, dazzled by the man in front of her, "I can't believe I'm going to the Suite. I've always wanted to see the view."

Mr. Smith just smiled as he saw the lady in front of him babble on. His eyes gazed hungrily as Kate danced. He licked his lips as he imagined what would be happening a few more minutes.

DING

The elevator doors opened and Mr. Smith strode out. He held the door open for her and she stepped out nervously.

The pair headed to the master bedroom, unaware that history was being made right then.

_A few years later_

A man walked on the shores of the Long Island Sound. He wore some beach shorts with a large Hawaiian shirt as he kicked around some of the sand.

He walked down the shore, sometimes dipping his legs in the water or just walking on top of it. Water flew around him in interesting shapes and sizes. He walked over in front of the abandoned cabin and took a big whiff of the sea air.

"I really should've gotten up early," A voice behind the man said. He turned around and was shell shocked at what stood before him.

A beautiful lady. So beautiful, he would've thought she was a goddess. There she stood, in faded-out jeans and a white blouse, but he couldn't care less. He couldn't help but stare at her face. No makeup, yet it looked so gorgeous.

"Hello," The lady said, offering him her hand, "My name's Sally. Sally Jackson."

"Huh?" The man stuttered.

"My name's Sally Jackson," She repeated, "What's yours?"

"I'm John," He said, "John Doe,"

He almost smacked himself for thinking of such a lame name. Idiot, he yelled at himself, what type of name is that? She'll think I'm some sort of serial killer. Seeing as we're in an isolated place and that I've got an obvious fake name, I wouldn't be surprised.

Back to not appearing as a serial killer, John thought, The Mist! I'll use the mist.

"John Doe?" Sally looked at him with a smirk, "Now come on, and tell me your real name."

"It's John Doe," The man said as he clicked his fingers. A slight mist sprouted out of his hand, "My name is John Doe and I'm not a serial killer."

"Your name is John Doe," The lady said with a dazed look on her face, "And you're not a serial killer, Lord Poseidon."

"What?!" The falsely named John Doe yelled, "I'm not Lord Poseidon. I'm John Doe."

He looked on with confusion as Sally started to laugh. He knew he should get mad, but her laugh, her melodious laugh, was like a song.

A contagious one. He soon joined in with the laughter.

"How'd you find out?" Poseidon asked in between laughs.

"It was elementary, my dear Watson." Sally said, "I-"

"My name's not Watson." Poseidon asked, confused.

"It's a mortal phrase, my lord," Sally explained.

"And enough of this lord business," Poseidon said, "Call me Poseidon, please."

Sally just looked at him with a small smile and launched into her speech. He listened to her speak, not understanding half of what she said. But nonetheless, he liked her. They both talked through the day. Having fun at each other's expense.

Poseidon would play with water, and she would watch.

Sally would talk about books, and he would nod and pretend to understand for her sake.

Now history, with all its twists and turns, was being written. Recorded. Played out.

All for the name of love…

_**CuriousGuest here,**_

**I hope you all enjoy the story. R & R.**

_**Zurgboy2 here,**_

**This is a joint story between CuriousGuest and I. This was actually his invention, his ideas, his character development. Basically, he's the thinker, I'm the writer...**

**A new story. Obvious starting, maybe a surprise ending. You read and check. I wouldn't like to repeat any clichés nor do I prefer to reveal plots. So please, bare with the first few. Enjoy the rest.  
Have fun reading.**


End file.
